


fimus

by natasialeia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, HELL TO THE YES, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tea, crackfic, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natasialeia/pseuds/natasialeia
Summary: Draco Malfoy knew it was wrong. Hermione Granger knew it was wrong. When fate finds them near a dirty corridor, will they give into their forbidden and questionable love? A: YES.





	fimus

 

fimus **.**

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy knew it was wrong. O so wrong. From the first time he saw Hermione Granger, hair spaced out, eyes reading sexily, he was drawn to her forbidden status.

"Father wouldn't approve," Draco muttered, adolescent blood boiling with wanting like onions in butter that want to be pureed but properly cooked to avoid food poisoning or unpleasant crunchiness.

Draco didn't like food poisoning. But he liked wanting things. And he wanted Hermione.

Hermione walked into the Great Hall, hair wet from a shower and wearing a clean white blouse that indicated proper hygiene. Her robes were dark, lint-free, and smelled of Tide, enticing Draco with the idea that cat ownership didn't have to be super gross.

Draco turned away, frustrated, and tried to soothe his engorged nerves by talking to his Slytherin friends about snobbish things, "Ah yes, this tea is grown in the golden hills of Wizard Land and you can rather taste the special anti-muggle magical qualities embedded in the leaves."

"Quite right, Draco. It shall be  _tasted_ magically."

Tasted?

"Do I detect a hint of  _tightness_ in the raspberry  _infusion_ of  _liquids_?"

Tight... Liquids...

"Yes, it compliments the  _wetness_ of the  _warm_ water quite nicely..."

Wet...

"It's a good thing we're  _evil_ because it is positively a  _sin_ to enjoy a tea as fine as this..."

Evil...

Sin...

"We're going to be late for class.  _Come_ , Draco."

Come.

Come.

Frizzed hair. Wet. Warm. Infused with the tightness of raspberry shampoo. Sexy shampoo. And it was  _coming_ his way right now. Like something that is sexy and drawing him, playing on his over-stimulated nerves engorged with probable desire.

"Malfoy?"

"GROSS. WHAT?"

"You're in my way."

"Your face is in my way."

"You're such a racist."

"You're such a mudblood."

"And you're such an asshole. A firm, clean and well educated... asshole... that talks of other matters besides Quidditch, pranks, and certain death of friends and family members should your kind win..."

"And your knowledge sparkles like a film of thin moisture on the questionable morality I've always known and continue to question in secret. Forbiddenly secret..."

"Gryffindor."

"Slytherin."

"I hate you."

"I hate you more."

"You think I'm beneath you."

"Do you want to be beneath me?"

"Yes."

Serendipitously positioned by a slightly dusty corridor, the two pallid faces collided with the passion only expressed by the crescendo of Pocahontus's  _Colors of the Wind_ as the fantastical female protagonist educates with a musically intense depth, " _How high does the sycamore grow? If you cut it down, then you'll never know..._ "

And they would know. They let the desire grow and grow and grow as hands fondled off belts, struggled with silken ties, and ripped off fresh, clean, crisp clothes moistened - soiled, even - by Hermione's warm, wet, infused hair thrown into messy disarray by Draco's oral expressions of frantic tumescence.

"But Malfoy, Malfoy, it's so dirty here. Look at the dirt."

"It's so dirty. Like your blood."

"It's so dirty. Like your morality."

"We should stay here. We'll be covered in literal dirt."

"We'll be dirty outside. And inside."

"We're creating more dirty work for the elves with our dirty fluids. They'll have to clean our combined dirt."

"They might catch onto our dirty secret with all this combined dirt."

"Let's go to class without properly washing and keep our combined dirt."

"Let's go without washing for twenty hours and stew in our combined dirt."

Hermione cried out in shared desire and horror at the thought of combined dirt, "DO ME, DRACO. DO ME IN THIS DIRT."

Draco bit hard on his lip, tasting his own dirty blood – the blood of a dirty blood traitor.

"CALL ME 'DIRTY DRACO.'"

"DIRTY DRACO. OH, SO DIRTY."

And then they had some sex.

 


End file.
